Love Me Two Times
by Jmisitano
Summary: "Look me in the fucking eye when I talk to you." What have I done? I kept from looking at the horror by fixating on the wet concrete beneath me, now beginning to flood with red. A man I had once known and called a friend laid lifeless and unrecognizable beside me. My God, what have I done?


This is the first I've written in a long, long time. I hope it's okay.

X

* * *

It was one of the wettest days in Georgia, at least as from what I could remember, and the rain just kept coming. Down, down it came in thick, fat drops crashing on the steaming earth in a race to coddle my bereavement. My knees ached from kneeling for so long and the zip ties binding my wrists behind me were beginning to cut into them.

"Look me in the _fucking_ eye when I talk to you."

 _What have I done?_ I kept from looking at the horror by fixating on the wet concrete beneath me, now beginning to flood with red. A man I had once known and called a friend laid lifeless and unrecognizable beside me. _My God, what have I done?_

' _Look at me,'_ I heard him say, but couldn't register his command. My breathing was shallow, yet labored. I was freezing, yet burning alive from the inside-out and fighting back the urge to vomit.

He kneeled before me, displaying his blood-soaked baseball bat deliberately in my peripheral view. The creak of his leather jacket let me know he was close, as well as the cadence of his breath in the crisp early morning air.

"Look. At. Me."

The rumble of his deep voice rattled through me, shaking out the last wave of sadness and stiffened the relentless shiver that neither chill nor shock could solely claim. I lifted my gaze to his, blinking back tears and persistent rain spatter. His brow furrowed when our eyes met, as mine were now stung and puffy and probably reddened.

"I never meant for this to happen, Rose." he sighed, giving one long stroke to his ever-thickening beard. I watched him reach for my face, perhaps in consolation, but decided against it.

He thought for a moment, attentive to the distress pouring over me, then reached for the red scarf he notoriously slung around his neck and began to wipe away the mixture of tears and foreign blood splatter from my face and neck. My cries gradually softened as he quietly cleaned up his mess.

With a deep sigh, he tossed the soiled cloth to the side and pulled out his bowie from the holster at his hip. "If you're asking if I even feel bad for what I just did. I do." He reached around me and snapped the plastic restraints.

"But you need to take a good God damn look at yourself, darlin'. You know what I do. You know what I'm capable of." he smirked, knowingly. "...and you know what the rules are."

Rumbles of thunder clouded around us as we both sat in a momentary silence. I closed my eyes briefly, taking in the arrhythmic plops of rain and pretended, even if only for a second, that I was somewhere somewhat pleasant.

"Nothin'? _Really?_ Not a single 'fuck you' or a 'go to hell'?" He chuckled.

I sat quietly, now glaring back; empty. Defeated.

He moved closer. "Let me help you out. 'I'm sorry, Negan. Let me suck your dick to make it up to you.'"

With a cheshire grin, he stood up and whistled, summoning Simon and a couple of other men like the obedient dogs they were.

"Do me a favor, take my dirty girl and clean her off for me, will ya?"

He handed the tainted bat off to Simon, who nodded compliantly and walked off. The other two men stepped forward.

"And you two," he smiled, turning and pointing at me, "Take my other dirty girl and make sure she cleans _her_ self off. She's got a lot of making up to do."

He smirked at me and winked, "Don't ya, darlin'?"

* * *

 _Months earlier…_

Time. I'm impervious to it nowadays. There's nothing more meaningless, yet critical, than time. Nevertheless, the mounted clock atop of the mantel across the room clicked persistently, tick-tock-tick-tock. A chime every hour for every significant amount of time; a haunting jingle when half the day was done. My grandmother had a horde of them in her home and it drove me nuts when I would sleep over, but now I've grown quite fond of them.

So glad she didn't live to see everything go to shit.

The look of bemusement on their faces was priceless when I told them I had only one request for my services: C cell batteries. Duracell.

Always and only Duracell.

Rick was reluctant to letting me keep a chime clock, but we compromised when I promised to would keep the volume on it it's lowest setting.

I've been asked numerous times how I was so sure that the time was correct. Well, to be honest I didn't know. I had no clue actually, but I manipulated some explanation about the placement of the sun and shadow casting. I remember learning a bit about sundials in high school. At least I think it was high school. Either way, they didn't argue with me about it much.

I stumbled into this group about four months ago. Rick and Daryl were holed up in a department store about 20 miles out, awaiting certain death I'm sure, at least until I came along and 'saved the day'. I say that with sarcasm because even after I slaughtered the lot of them, they still had the nerve to strip me of my weapons and threatened to kill me.

But that's a story for another day, I suppose.

Nowadays, you'll find me in one of the modest homes in Alexandria; one I shared with Daryl from the beginning. He insisted he wanted to make sure I wasn't going to wake up in the middle of the night and kill everybody, so he slept on a futon in the same room.

I'm not sure at what point he decided I wasn't a threat anymore because he sort of just...stayed.

I didn't mind though. After spending so much time alone, it was kind of nice to have somebody there at night. Even with somebody as distant and seemingly off-putting as him.

As time progressed, and the more comfortable I got with him being there, I'd tease and poke and prod him to get him to loosen up.

I referred to him as my 'roomie'. He didn't like it. I asked if we could put up bunk beds once. He certainly didn't like that either. God forbid if I ever got a genuine smile from him.

One time before bed, I asked if he really stayed in the same room because he enjoyed watching me sleep. He scoffed and muttered cusses under his breath.

The room was pitch black as we laid there in silence.

"So, you're not denying it then." I teased.

"Go to bed."

"So you can get a closer look? Watch my rhythmic breathing patterns and take in my sweet breath?"

"Stop it." he demanded.

A moment goes by.

"Can we at least give each other goodnight butterfly kisses?"

He sighed, dismissively.

The first few nights were awkward, as you could imagine. I'd be lying in bed, completely exhausted, but his silhouette on the other side of the room creeped me out too much to let me fully fall asleep. I'd drift off for a little while, then a nightmare would snap me awake and he'd still be sitting there. Watching me.

Initially he would stand at full attention as I've must've startled him, but the more it happened, the less he reacted. One night I dreamt of something vicious and woke up in a hazy whimper.

"It's okay, Rose," he whispered, "You're alright. Go back to sleep."

And I would.

As the nights progressed, I began to relax more and more. I believe it took nearly two months before I was able to sleep throughout the night.

The moment I knew I was totally comfortable was when I woke up to the sunlight peeking through the blinds. I rubbed my eyes and looked over to see him rolled over on his side, sleeping peacefully himself.

Two months later, going to bed was like clock work. I'd lay down and he'd sit at the edge of his futon to fiddle with his knife or whatever else he'd happen to carry around with him that day. Next thing I remember, we're both waking up to the heat of beaming light.

"Good morning," I yawned.

"Mornin'." he'd mimick.

"I haven't slept this good in a long time."

"Me neither," he'd say. A man of many words.

 _Knock knock knock._

Daryl quickly left to answer the door. I followed behind.

"Mornin'," Rick said. "Got a minute?"

We cleared a path for him to walk through.

"What's goin' on?" Daryl asked as we settled into the kitchen.

"Well, as you know, the Saviors are coming tomorrow. This is the last time we're going to be giving them an offering."

Daryl nodded, knowingly.

"Everything is ready. Just want to make sure ya'll were caught up on things."

Rick looked to me now, his hands on his hips waiting for reassurance. I nodded and recited the plan.

"Good," he said, "I'll see ya in a bit."

When Rick closed the door behind him, Daryl and I looked to each other, expressionless, yet layered with so many emotions.

War was coming. And even though we didn't say it out loud, we were both absolutely terrified.


End file.
